


there's you in everything

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (Comics)
Genre: Capfam OT4, Couch Sex, F/M, Intimacy, M/M, Multi, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has to suppress a shudder at how intimate it is, and maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that with everything that’s been done to Bucky his memory for detail is so sharp. He leans into the touch, but bites his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. Not here in front of so many strangers.</p>
<p>As soon as he can, he cuts off the interview and pulls Bucky further into the party. “Bucky-”</p>
<p>He smirks up at Steve, his fingers splayed against his side. “You like that?”</p>
<p>(Five times the people Steve loved touched his tattoos)</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's you in everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [defcontwo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/gifts).



> Thank you to Renne for editing this and dealing with me <3333

Steve tries to get comfortable with the microphones in his face. He can't believe he's here doing this, he's done what he could to avoid all of it. The media and the press but he knows he has a voice and he can't hide forever.

He knows Sharon is around and Sam but it's Bucky who slips in beside him. He leans into him, trying not to interrupt his answer, not even sure what he's saying. Something about good will, looking out for people. Bucky's hand comes to rest on his back, his flesh and blood hand and Steve can feel his warmth.

The reporter immediately swings over. "Mr. Barnes."

"Is not answering questions," Bucky says firmly. "I'm just moral support."

The reporter purses his lips, clearly not about to be waylaid so easily but Steve clears his throat pointedly. "You were asking something about a new law?"

Bucky's fingers move to his side and seem to absently draw patterns on his side while the reporter stumbles through his question. Steve realizes that the seemingly random patterns match the ink curling around his side. He has to suppress a shudder at how intimate it is, and maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that with everything that’s been done to Bucky his memory for detail is so sharp. He leans into the touch, but bites his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. Not here in front of so many strangers.

As soon as he can, he cuts off the interview and pulls Bucky further into the party. “Bucky-”

He smirks up at Steve, his fingers splayed against his side. “You like that?”

Sharon appears a moment later, slipping her arm through Steve’s. “Thought you would never finish up. You can tell them ‘no’ you know.” 

She glances between them but Steve clears his throat before she can join Bucky’s game. “Sorry, Senator Brandt always told me treat reporters with respect.”

Bucky snorts and his fingers ghost over Steve’s shoulder as he steps away. “Yea cause you respected Brandt so much. Go dance, I’m gonna eat.”

“You-” Steve starts but Bucky gives him a firm look just as Sharon tugs him away and he has no choice but to follow. She knows he’s still awkward on the dance floor, so she loops her arms over his shoulders and together they just sway, occasionally taking a step and his training seems to kick in because they move together.

“It’s not so bad you know,” Sharon says. “You do look very nice in that suit.”

He can’t resist a smirk and twists her, blond hair spinning out around her. She keeps hold of his hand as she comes back to him and presses a kiss to his wrist, to the simple outline of a cross hidden under his sleeve (it leads up to a rosary that tangles around his arm, colored to look like his mother’s favorite).

-

There are a million little things different in his life now, and he thinks he treasures being able to sleep in the most. Even though he doesn’t need the sleep anymore, and he’s usually up early anyway, there’s something about waking up with sunlight already filling his room he loves. Maybe it’s just having Bucky tucked against his side.

Though sometimes it's Sam or Sharon or all three and he doesn’t know how he got this lucky and he can’t stop living with the expectation it’s going to disappear, fade away like a dream. It’s why he gets the bird and the thirteen and the wings. Something to remember them all by on days when the anxiety eats at him.

Sharon rolls her eyes when she sees the simple roman numerals but there’s a shy smile on her lips that she can’t shake and Sam laughs in delight and immediately touches his fingers to it through the plastic and later when it’s healed, he’ll trace each line with his lips. Bucky smiles and pulls Steve in for a kiss.

-

He groans softly, resting his head on Bucky’s lap. Everything hurts and every tremor of the jet seems to just make everything hurt even worse. Bucky grips his hand tightly with the metal hand so Steve can squeeze as hard as he needs.

“You fucking idiot,” Bucky grumbles, a shaky litany of how foolish Steve was. In a few hours he’ll be healed and ok but right now, neither of them are truly there in the jet. Steve is small and sick and always perpetually dying. Always in over his head.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “didn’t mean to. Thought I had it.”

Bucky lets out a wobbly laugh. Everyone else on the jet is purposefully ignoring them, letting them have some space. “You’re still determined to give me a heart attack.” His flesh and blood hand comes around when there’s a strong jolt, and Steve hisses when he twists his ankle to brace himself so he doesn’t slide to the floor.

Bucky’s fingers curl around his shoulder, lingering over the crest of the 107th and then slide over to rest on his chest, fingers splayed. His uniform is torn and stained and Bucky’s hand is warm even where the fabric is a layer between them. His thumb runs back and forth, not on Steve’s clavicle but the skin right underneath it.

It had been a dare from Bucky so he had never had it covered up, even though the art was shaky and the ink fading. Three flowers that didn’t look like much of anything now, he didn’t remember what type they were even supposed to be anymore. Probably nothing, they had been drinking bad whiskey when they’d gone to the parlor that night. The three flowers still sit all in a line right under the bone.

Steve sighs softly and shifts as much as he can so Bucky doesn’t stop touching, so Bucky’s hand stays right there. He feels more than hears when Bucky huffs out an annoyed sigh but his thumb continues back and forth. “Fucker.”

Steve grins. “Love you too.”

“You should get ‘lost property of Bucky Barnes, if found take to a fucking hospital’ right on your forehead so I don’t haveta babysit.” 

“You’d be bored.”

Bucky purses his lips so Steve knows he’s trying to push away his smile and it just makes him smile wider.

-

He glares at the suit laid out neatly on the bed. He’s never been much for formality and getting to wear jeans and t-shirts all the time these days has spoiled him. He can hear someone open the door and linger there, watching him. There’s a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and he looks up to frown at Sharon.

She just laughs.

“Come on Steve, get dressed.” She comes up behind him and presses a kiss to the rifle inked on his shoulder blade. “Sam and Bucky are waiting downstairs.”

“Buck got talked into this?”

“Just for you.” She smiles against his skin. “Come on don’t be a spoilsport. It’s your birthday.”

He makes a face. He wants to stay home and eat the fudge he knows has been stashed in the refrigerator though Sam keeps denying it. He wants to stay sprawled out on the couch or if they must go out, join the crowds watching the fireworks over the Hudson. He wants to be in a tangled mess with the three of them and not be forced to stand rigid straight just in case his suit gets wrinkled. This entire thing, this party, isn’t for him and they all know it. The City of New York wants to look good and what better way than throwing a birthday party for Captain America.

He can’t put this off forever though and reluctantly he pulls away from Sharon to start getting dressed. He’s slightly surprised to see there’s no tie left out. The suit likely comes from Stark and he - or at least Pepper Potts - isn’t going to overlook a detail like that.

Sharon sits down on the bed, legs folded neatly and she looks so elegant even among the rumpled sheets. With her arms folded across her lap he can’t see the wings on the inside of her wrist but he smiles, knowing they’re there.

“You look good Steve,” she says as he finishes up, tugging one last time at his jacket’s sleeves. Everything is so tight and tailored, he feels like the seams will pop if he tenses.

“Feel awkward.”

She gets to her feet and carefully smooths down the front of the shirt. Her hands run back up and open the top two buttons on his shirt. "Easy to fake being comfortable." She presses a kiss to his jaw. "The sooner this is over the sooner we'll be home." Her lips touch his lightly. "Ok?"

"Don't think I have a choice."

"You really fucking don't." She beams and pulls him away from the bedroom. Her fingers stay on his wrist when they get to the party and Sam and Bucky are chatting easily behind him, he can feel one of them rest their hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. They disappear pretty quickly though and he stays closer to Sharon, making himself smile through all the niceties.

Pepper comes over at some point to see how he’s doing. “I thought I had made sure your suit was complete.” She eyes his open collar suspiciously and Steve looks at Sharon who smiles sweetly.

“It was a threat risk, wouldn’t want anyone choking you to death.”

Pepper smirks. “I’m sure. Excuse me, Tony is by the bar.” She takes off but Steve is still looking at Sharon.

“Choking me to death,” he says flatly.

Her fingers climb up his chest and she scratches lightly at the spot where the XIII is inked on his skin. “Valid security risk. Looking out for you.” 

He dips his head to kiss her, pulling her close so her hand is caught between them. “You might be insane,” he murmurs.

She shrugs and he can feel her lips curl into a smile. “I’m your lucky number.”

(Sam and Bucky eventually reappear, Bucky’s hair mussed and Sam’s lips red and Sharon laughs when Steve pouts because she hasn’t let them do the same.)

-

Steve sits with his sketchpad in his lap, doodling faceless figures and empty horizons. He's alone and wants to treasure it, as much as he loves his family, the quiet feels like a treasure. But he’s not surprised either when Sam finds him and squeezes himself into the space Steve’s left behind on the couch.

Steve sets the pad aside and reaches for him, pulling Sam against his chest. He can feel Sam laugh against his lips before biting gently at his lower lip and soothing it over with a kiss. His fingers slip under Steve’s shirt, stroking over his stomach. 

"I wanna fuck you here."

Steve groans low in his throat. "Can the couch handle it?"

Sam laughs and nuzzles at his neck, he pushes Steve's shirt further up. "You think I care?" He dips his head and his lips are hot and wet on Steve's chest, there's a scrape of teeth over his nipple and Steve lets out a stuttering gasp.

His mouth moves lower and Steve uses the chance to get his shirt off completely. Sam's hands are working on his pants and Steve is grateful he never bothered to put on more than sweats. 

Sam sits back up between Steve's thighs and for a second he just looks, eyes lingering on the not yet healed bruises overlaying the ink in Steve’s skin. Steve tugs on Sam’s shirt to get him to at least strip while he's staring. Sam laughs and swats his hands away but pulls back to get out of his clothes. When he’s back down on the couch, Steve gets his legs around him and pulls him down. Their lips meet again, Steve catching Sam’s lip with his teeth and Sam grinding against him.

He can feel the couch creak underneath them with each jerk of their hips and part of him wants to see if they can break the thing. But he doesn’t care that much with the feel of Sam pressed against him, with the feel of pre-come sticky on his stomach. 

Afterwards, Sam rests back on his heels and Steve lets his eyes fall shut, not to fall asleep but he feels languid and relaxed. He feels Sam move and then his lips touch Steve’s chest and the couch feels wobbly as he shifts, his mouth moving lower over Steve’s stomach. He groans, realizing where Sam is going and what he’s doing. His cock twitches, already interested again.

He can feel Sam’s smirk against his skin. “Later, Captain Stamina.” He presses a last kiss to his thigh before sliding up to sprawl over him. 

“So what’d I do to deserve that?” He curls his hand loosely around Sam’s bicep so he doesn’t fall off, his skin is warm against Steve’s. 

“I can’t just appreciate my handsome boyfriend? Only fair I show you how much.” He reaches for Steve’s pens, discarded over the side of the couch. “You gonna lie there for awhile?”

“Planning on it. Why?”

Sam uncaps a pen and starts carefully coloring in Steve’s outline of Zephyrus; the tattoo is old and he keeps on meaning to finally it it colored but never gets around to it. The pen nib tickles against his skin but he doesn’t feel like asking Sam to stop either.

“Think we should be jealous?” Bucky stage whispers from the door.

“Nah,” Sharon says, she has her arms around Bucky and must be up on her toes so she can rest her chin on his shoulder. Somehow they look comfortable. “But we should take a picture to get off to later.” She kisses Bucky’s cheek.

“Whatever as long as you share,” Sam says.


End file.
